Anonymous
by Remember Ember
Summary: What would you do if you started receiving flowers and gifts from an anonymous person? What if those gifts started to get seriously weird, even escalating to fucked up and downright un-humane?


It had been a long day at school, he couldn't help but sighing as he entered his house. His bag dropped to the side as his shoulders slumped. He slipped his shoes off and ran a hand through his blonde hair. "Felix! I need you to head out and get me some wine!" his mother's angry voice called from her bedroom. He sighed, his blue eyes sad. This had been happening a lot recently. Ever since Dad left.

"Alright, Mom! I'm just gonna put my school stuff away first!" he called back, a faux sweetness covering his voice. At least she didn't hurt him when she drank. She would just forget about him, maybe cry on him if he was in the room. He went to his room and dropped his bag on his bed. He quickly changed out of his stuffy school uniform into a more comfortable pale pink sweater and black jeans.

Then, he left the house, locking the door behind him. He froze when he heard something rustle in the bushes. Quickly spinning around, his eyes searched for anything out of place. When he found nothing, he brushed it off as a rabbit or squirrel and continued on his way. As he walked into the nearby liquor store, he went straight for the wines, finding the cheapest he could and getting a few bottles.

He went to the counter, knowing he'd be able to get them because everyone in the area knew who the wine was for. As he stepped out of the store, he bumped into someone, nearly dropping the wine. He looked at the guy with wide eyes, repeating 'I'm sorry' over and over. He soon froze at the sight of outrageously bright green hair, and gorgeous ocean blue eyes. His words got stuck in his throat as his classmate smiled at him.

"Hey, Felix, right? It's no trouble, really. I should have been watching where I was going..." the green haired boy smiled at him, a strange twinkle in his eye, "See you in school tomorrow?" Felix just nodded, almost as if in a daze, as he watched the bright-haired boy enter the store. He quickly left, a light blush on his face as he made his way home.

When he arrived, he brought the wine straight to his mother's room, his nose crinkling upon entrance. It smelled stale and smokey in there, his mother was propped against her pillows, burning cigarette in hand. He smiled, handing her one bottle, and setting the rest next to her. She had a strange far off look on her face as she nodded in thanks, immediately taking a long sip. She shooed him from the room with a wave of her hand, and he left. He was about to head to his own room when he heard a knock on the door. Curiously, he made his way over, peeking through the peephole to... nothing. He opened the door a crack, looking down, thinking perhaps a child, or midget.

Instead, there was a small card attached to a single red rose. He bent down to pick it up, stepping out to look around. There was no one in sight. He looked down at the note in his hands, reading it right there on his front porch.

 _Felix,_

 _You are as jaw-dropping as the first flower of spring._

 _As beautiful as a blood red rose._

 _Your beauty will fade when the last petal of the rose falls._

 _Anonymous_

He frowned for a moment after reading it, before realizing the rose was fake. Its petals would never fall. He smiled as a warm bubbly feeling erupted in his stomach, and he looked around again. Still no one.

"Thank you!" he called to no one, but just in case whoever left it was in hearing distance. He then turned away, back into his home. In his room, the rose was placed in a small glass vase, and then he got ready for bed, ignoring the feeling he got of being watched.

...

A month passed, and Felix continued to receive gifts from 'Anonymous'. None of them were big, just some poems or flowers. Once there was a stuffed pig he'd been eyeing at the store earlier that day that he hadn't had the money to buy. Each gift came with a small card, signed, Anonymous. He was starting to get really curious as to who this person was. Were they a boy or a girl? Not that he really cared. Were they old? Were they young? Did he know them, or were they a complete stranger? Were they cute? Ugly? Why did they choose him? Was he the only one?

He had so many questions and no answers. And he had no way of asking his questions either. Anonymous seemed intent on not taking anything left for them. He'd tried leaving notes at the door for them, but each morning they'd still be there, unopened and unmoved.

It was this night though, as Felix waited for the telltale knock on the door, that things would change. He jumped up when he heard the knock, throwing the door open in hopes of catching Anonymous. Again, he was somehow too late. He sighed and looked down, confused when he saw... hair? He picked it up with a confused and slightly disgusted look, turning to the note for an explanation.

 _A lock of hair for my love, to identify me by._

 _It may be brown, it may be gray, but it's only on the side._

 _Anonymous xx_

Felix shuddered a bit and brought the hair into his home. He turned to the trash in the kitchen and went to throw the strange and disgusting gift out when he paused. It was hair... he could use it to try and narrow down who Anonymous was... He sighed and brought the hair to his room, setting it on his side table and getting ready for bed.

...

A week later, he received another strange hint. An eye. It was just a pastry, but the way it was presented made it look real, which really freaked him out at first. Till he was told, via note, that the 'blood' was cherry syrup, the eye was a sweet pastry, and the iris color was Anonymous'. So, Felix gathered his Anonymous admirer had brownish-gray hair, on the sides, and bright blue eyes. And was an excellent pastry maker, like damn. Another two weeks and he got a dick.

Another two weeks and he got a dick.

Well, a dildo. A pasty white, 6-inch dildo. The note said it was a plastic replica of the real thing, and that Mr. Anonymous hoped he would use it. He hasn't.

Yet.

Another week of gifts after the dildo, and Felix accidentally came out as bi to his friends. Apparently, some weren't as open-minded as he thought. Ken Morrison, one of his best friends since grade school, now seemed to actively avoid him. He sighed as he adjusted his bag on his shoulders, walking home.

He was so absorbed in his own thoughts and regret over his accidental choice, he missed the footsteps coming up behind him. He was completely oblivious, till he was punched in the face that is. He went down fast, hitting the ground after one punch. He recognized his assailant as Ken before he was punched a few more times and passed out.

When his eyes opened, he was being carried. He caught a glimpse of pasty white skin, brown hair, and beautiful blue eyes as he faded in and out of consciousness.

When he woke up again, he was in his bed and it was dark out. He sat up quickly, groaning as he got a head rush, before rushing out of his room. He had to check the porch. It was like routine by now, and he was scared that if he missed it, it would stop. When he opened the door and looked down, he nearly screamed. Instead of a nice gift, or a pretty note mentioning he was the one who carried him home, he found a hand.

A severed hand, clenched in a fist. He curled away from it at first, before unfurling and bending down. He curiously poked it, pulling his hand away quickly as if expecting it to move. When it didn't, he grabbed the paper next to it.

 _I took the hand from the one who hurt you_

 _He cannot do it again, my flower_

 _Anonymous_

Felix stared at the hand in horrified fascination, _Is that... Ken's hand?_ he thought, swallowing harshly.

He bent down and poked it again, it was still warm to the touch. The scent hit him them, sickly sweet and bloody. He shivered but picked the hand up. He told himself it was just so it wasn't on his porch. He told himself it was disgusting and he should try to pretend it never happened. Of course, it's harder to lie yourself into not liking things than some people make it seem. In all honesty, Felix felt a little flutter in his chest at the thought of someone liking him enough to sever someone's hand for him. It was sweet, in a really morbid way.

He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand, staring down at the severed one in the other hand. He swallowed heavily, the thoughts finally hitting him. _I'm holding a severed hand. This is a real fuCKING HAND. WHAT THE FUCK. WHY DID I NOT FREAK OUT BEFORE NOW_. He pulled in a shuddering breath and closed the door, turning towards the kitchen.

"I-I should throw it away. Or tell the police! I- this isn't right. This isn't right," he mumbled to himself in a soft yet high pitched panicky voice. He froze when he heard a soft knocking at the door, turning to look with wide eyes. He slowly made his way closer, the hand having been left on the kitchen counter. He swallowed when he looked out the peephole, nothing. Mr. Anonymous had never come twice in a night. Yet he sure it was he who had knocked on the door.

He opened the door slowly, cautiously. No one was outside, and slowly lowered his head to the ground. A white envelope, spattered with red marks, and a still wet red fingerprint. He sighed shakily, leaning over to pick it up. A familiar writing greeted him as he flipped it over, his name written neatly on the envelope. He opened it then and there, wanting to get it over with.

 _Felix,_

 _I'm sorry for scaring you. I didn't mean to. I just want you to know I can protect you. I won't let you be hurt. Especially if I can prevent it, or at least prevent it from happening again._

 _I don't believe you'll be getting any more harassment from Morrison, nor will he spread what happened around the school. At least if he knows whats good for him. You're mine, and mine alone._

 _At least if he knows whats good for him. You're mine, and mine alone._

 _S_

Felix stared at the short letter. His stomach was doing fluttery little flips and a small smile tugged at his lips. He'd been 'claimed' as Mr. Anonymous'. Sure it was only a letter, but still. Plus, he apologized for the scare of the hand. And explained himself better, if only slightly. He was trying. And he'd given another hint. A very big hint.

 _An initial._

Felix practically giggled, holding the letter close to his chest as he looked around, hoping for a glimpse of his admirer. He saw nothing and decided to head inside after a few minutes for a breeze had picked up and he was getting cold. He folded the letter back up and placed it on his bedside table, after, of course, he grabbed the hand and threw it in an empty bin. He couldn't risk leaving it, so he decided he'd bury it in the morning.

...

Months passed, and Felix continued to receive small gifts and slightly larger gifts. He found himself doodling like a lovesick teenager, 'S + F', in his notebook. He may not have their name, but he had an initial, and that was enough to get his doodling started.

Every time he was hurt, be it at school or the store or even a restaurant, if it was non-accidental, he'd receive one of their body parts. Normally it was a hand or a finger. Once he got a foot, sock, shoe, and all.

His life would get better each time he found a new gift, yet worse each time his mother opened her mouth. She'd taken to talking bad at him, yelling and belittling him whenever she felt like it. It hurt him, to say the least. A few times she even went into his room while he was at school, and he would come back to find it trashed. He would also find all gifts from Anonymous that had not been hidden were taken and destroyed. As if she was jealous that he was happy.

He found himself crying, clutching one gift or another, a lot more nowadays. Felix also quickly found he didn't mind the stranger, bloodier gifts. They made his stomach tingle and his heart flutter, still at the fact that someone would go as far as dismembering someone for him. _Him_. Little, now faux frosty blond, Felix Kjellberg. The annoying gay kid.

He couldn't help but smile as he sat, in class now, daydreaming about his secret admirer. He hoped he could figure out who they were before the end of summer. He was moving out, to go to college and get away from his mother. Though admittedly, he was scared of leaving her alone, he needed to get away.

He hoped he could figure out, or at least know they would follow him before he moved. He was really enjoying the little gifts and notes, and he wasn't sure he'd be able to go with their little ritual of sorts being gone. He sighed, his eyes trailing across the students in his class. He froze, eyes staring at familiar brown-gray hair. _On the side_. He felt stupid, not realizing it before. Blue eyes, brownish-gray hair on the sides of his head. A quiet, mysterious boy...

Felix swallowed, staring. Almost as if he sensed Felix's thoughts, knew he was being watched, the boy turned. Stunning familiar blue eyes attached to his own. He remembered those eyes, from passing in the hallways for a year, the wine store... after Ken beat him and he was carried home. Those electrifying blue eyes. Sean McLoughlin, or as he was commonly known...

 _Jack._

...

After class Felix hadn't been able to catch up to Jack and question him. Neither had he been able to find him after school. So, Felix headed home, upset he hadn't been able to catch Jack. He perked up at the thought of waiting by the door and watching for Jack but paused outside his home. The door was already unlocked. His mother never left the door unlocked, and he never forgot to lock it behind him. Panic swelled in his chest as he gently pushed it open.

"M-mom?" he called out quietly. There was no response. He cautiously made his way further into the house. There was no sound besides his own heavy breathing and his feet hitting the floor with each step.

"She's not here. She's gone away."

Felix jumped at the slightly accented voice coming from the kitchen. He froze in his place before cautiously making his way to the kitchen. His breath left him when he saw Jack, sitting at his kitchen table. Playing with the ribbons on the top of a box. Jack looked up at him, blue eyes sharp. He smiled strangely and pushing the box forwards.

"Open it. And, if you still enjoy me and my gifts, they will continue. If you are too pissed or freaked out, I will leave you be. For now."

Felix nodded, reaching out to the box, bag slipping from his shoulders. He pulled it closer, before looking up at the green haired, blue eyed boy before him. Jack's face was emotionless, and no help in indicating what was in the box. There was a little letter attached to the side, which he read first.

 _She can't hurt you anymore._

He swallowed and opened the box quickly. Inside was... his mothers head. He screamed and fell back, scrambling across the room with wide eyes.

His breaths started to get shorter, panic setting in. And it wasn't really from the fact that his mother was dead, he knew it was bound to happen soon anyway, but the fact that her head was no longer attached to her body and was sitting in a box on his kitchen table. His chest got tighter, and he lifted his hands to his face, breathing short and heavy.

He felt cold hands covering his own on his face. He could hear soft mumbles, keeping a steady beat. It calmed him, enough to steady his breathing.

He closed his eyes, before looking up at Jack's concerned face above his.

He smiled shakily, feeling Jack's thumbs rubbing away tears he hadn't noticed.

"I... Why?" he asked softly, still sitting on the floor.

"I've already told you. You're mine."


End file.
